


A Parallel Remembrance

by HiddenFlame530



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: And Copes By Writing Bad Fanfiction, Angst, Byleth Remembers Past Playthroughs, F/F, F/M, The Author is Sleep-Deprived, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25930393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenFlame530/pseuds/HiddenFlame530
Summary: Byleth stopped the sword mid-swing, right before they could deal the killing blow.This is not how the story ends. This is not how it was written. The look in his eyes, the strength in his hands....such things were once meant for them, and them alone.(or, the author angsts for their beloved Deer in the middle of a Crimson Flower playthrough)
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	A Parallel Remembrance

They had read a thousand different books on strategy, all purporting to gift the reader with a sense of knowledge and calm, even amidst the turmoil of the battlefield.

Said books were, to put it mildly, full of wyvern dung.

The battlefield was chaos, pure and simple. Anyone who thought it could be strategized, neatly laid out onto a grid complete with little metal figurines and flags, was a) a fool and b)someone who had clearly never been on a real battlefield.

Deirdru, circa right now, was proof of that. They had vague recollections of visiting the Aquatic Capital before, back when it wasn't an active war zone. It was an interesting city, full of tiny hole-in-the-wall cafes and small knickknack shops that sold everything, from daggers you could use to off your enemies to handkerchiefs with which to wipe the blood of your enemies off. Right now, however, the storefronts were boarded up, the patrons had long since evacuated. If it weren't for the din of battle in the streets, the city would be oddly silent.

Byleth found themselves wandering one of those back alleyways right now. The bulk of the Alliance troops had already been dispatched, but the sudden reinforcements from Almyra had surprised them. The only orders Byleth could bark out before they descended from the sky were "Scatter! Make yourselves scarce!" Most of the Black Eagle Strike Force had done just that. They didn't know Lysithea was capable of reaching such speeds, and they didn't think they'd ever see her run like that again. 

They, Edelgard and Hubert had split off to take up positions near the city center, hoping to perform a pincer attack, or at least something resembling a coherent strategy. Before they could, however, an angry war cry had split their ears. They'd turned to see Judith von Daphnel, in all her glory, rushing towards them with a rapier. The blade glinted in the sun as she brought it down to meet Edelgard's axe. Hubert and Byleth defended her, warding off the troops that had come to see what the commotion was about.

There was no rhyme or reason to it. They simply swung and hacked away at the endless waves of troops until they stopped coming. The bodies slumped over one another, empty eyes staring up at the sky. They turned to see Judith stagger backwards, clutching her neck. Blood poured from between her fingers, cascading down to her yellow armor, now stained reddish-brown. Her eyes sought them out, fixing them with a penetrating gaze, before glazing over as the Hero of House Daphnel joined her comrades in death.

A despairing shout rang out across the city, probably from one of the generals, but Byleth couldn't hear a thing over the blood roaring in their ears. They had known the woman before them, once. Not as an enemy. As an ally, a friend. They remembered her booming laugh and her commanding demeanor, and how she could make even the highest of nobles tremble before her.

"-eacher? My teacher, are you unhurt?"

Edelgard's eyes were filled with worry as she extended a gauntleted hand. Byleth realized that they'd sunk down to their knees next to the body, and that Judith's blood had soaked into their trousers. They took the hand offered, wobbling to their feet, before managing a small smile. "I'm fine, Edelgard. Just a little...lightheaded."

Her brow furrowed as she looked them over. "Please, if you're feeling unwell, then you should leave the field, post-haste. We can't afford to lose you-especially not now."

They brushed her off. "Really, there's no cause for concern. This battle will be over soon enough. I will see this through to the end. I promised you, remember?" She seemed to visibly relax, her armor shifting slightly. "If you say so. Can you handle the north side of the city? Hubert and I will head towards the harbor to reinforce the troops there."

The duo left soon after they nodded assent, Edelgard shooting them worried looks as Hubert urged her onward.

Nostalgia overwhelmed them as they walked further into the city, the Sword of the Creator grasped in hand. The sloping rooftops, the neatly-carved flagstones, the smell of salt and sea breezes. There was no doubt; they had lived here before. But when? They had only visited once or twice, and those were to help drive off some pirates. So how could they remember all this so vividly?

"Professor Byleth?"

They turned on their heel to see Hilda advancing toward them. Freikugel was grasped in her daintily-gloved hands, glowing bright as the sword they themselves carried. She had grown much since they last saw her. Her signature girlish pigtails were gone, and her bright pink hair fell long past her shoulders. She raised her weapon reluctantly, shifting her stance. "Guess we're enemies now, huh? I never thought it would come to this, but..." New resolve seemed to run through her veins as she straightened up. "I can't let you pass. I won't let you hurt Claude!"

They parried her first strike, dodged her next one and ducked under the third. It was so easy, like they were playing a game rather than fighting for dominance. They could somehow tell just when and where she was going to strike, even though she wasn't giving off many obvious cues. There were faint tears in her eyes as she wound up again. "Please, professor, just....Please retreat! I don't want to fight you, but if I have to...!"

Byleth easily caught Freikugel on the serrated edge of their sword, locking them together, and that's when they remembered. They had sparred with Hilda before. Not just when they had taught her, but as equals. They had fought together as comrades, in a war much like this one. She always favored her right side.

How did they know? They hadn't spent much time together at Garreg Mach, and yet she was like an open book to them. They could have sworn, she had made them a necklace as thanks for finding and returning a lost bottle of perfume. They wore it every day, they could almost feel it around their neck...

The slight twinge in their arm brought them back to reality as they realized Hilda was about to break free. They swung the sword down, knocking the axe out of her hands, before pointing the tip at her.

"Go, Hilda. I'm not going to kill you, but....You need to leave. Now." They could barely speak past the lump in their throat. She seemed puzzled, pink eyes widening. "But you...you're with Edelgard and the Imperial Army....Won't they blame you for letting me go?"

"Please, Hilda. Get away from here!" The girl's hand went to the sword on her belt, before she looked at them, and then at the harbor, and then she ran, hair streaming behind her.

The sound of ocean waves and fighting grew to encompass their hearing as they reached the pier. Pulling out a bow, they notched an arrow before drawing it taut, aiming carefully at a wyvern rider halfway across the bay. A hissing sound trailed the arrow as it flew home, embedding itself in the wyvern's eye. The beast roared before it went limp and fell, rider desperately yelling, into the waters and sank. Several others noticed the sound and turned to face them, circling warily out of range of their bow. 

A dark cloud crept in along the sides of the pier, covering the floor with inky miasma. A flash of white caught Byleth's eye as they leapt to the side. Shrieking orbs of purplish light soared upward from the void, piercing the riders through and eating away at their armor. They were gone before they had even realized what hit them. 

Lysithea lowered her hands, finishing the incantation. The void closed and dissolved as she approached, clad in the white robes and fur stole of a gremory.

"Professor, what were you doing! You're completely out of it, and if I hadn't been there, they...they might have killed you!" Her voice was indignant, dripping with the special kind of anger that is only born of worry.

"I was fine, Lysithea. No need to worry about me dying anytime soon." As they said that, they recalled a tea party they'd once had, sitting on the outskirts of the city, watching the ships leave and enter the harbor. How excitedly she'd pointed out each one, rattling off what flag they flew under and which company they worked for and what goods they carried. They had no memory of ever taking tea here, they swore. "We should go rejoin the others, now that we're finished here."

"Agreed! We need to help them take down.....oh." Lysithea had turned to see a figure, whirling overhead on a pale white wyvern. The beast shrieked as it dove suddenly, its' master loosing several bolts of light from his glowing bow. Each hit its' target easily, with the exception of the last one, which Hubert dodged at the exact last second. They shuddered.

If Claude had been successful...Hubert wouldn't be standing there anymore. They knew Failnaught's power, had laughed and talked for hours with Claude in the training grounds, as he used it to obliterate target after target, until the sun went down and Judith came to berate them both for wasting practice dummies.

"Stay here. Watch my back." They gave the command, not because it was advantageous for them to leave their most powerful mage behind, but because they didn't want her to see what would likely be the outcome of the impending showdown. She seemed to understand, standing back and mumbling spells under her breath.

Claude had dispatched everyone else, and was staring down Hubert, when they arrived. 

"Claude von Riegan." Their voice was shaking. Why were they so emotional? Was it because that name had left their lips before, said with affection rather than enmity? He turned, Failnaught grasped tightly in gloved hands. If he wasn't wearing them, you could see that his knuckles were white. Despite the carefree pretense he put on, they knew he was nervous, that he hated battles like this. They knew this, because he had told them, shaking slightly when the dust cleared and he was coming off a nasty battle high. They'd helped get him back to his tent, they'd shared a bed for the night, and he sometimes talked in his sleep, muttering about poison recipes for his next scheme.

Hubert took the non-verbal cue and retreated behind Edelgard's shield, which she hefted proudly, letting the double-headed eagle on the front shine in the midday sun. "It doesn't have to be this way, Claude. Surrender yourself. You have the power to end this battle, quickly and bloodlessly."

He laughed, and it was fake, they could see the worry in his eyes, the fear nestled in his amber irises. "Sorry, Your Majesty, but I'm afraid I can't do that. I am the leader of the Leicester Alliance, after all, and it simply wouldn't do for me to just up and give you the capital city. You're going to have to fight me for it if you want Deirdru that badly."

He knew his chances of winning were slim, and the ever-present grin on his face was gone now as he readied Failnaught. Edelgard raised Amyr in answer, charging forward with a fierce battle cry. They clashed somewhere in the middle, dust rising around them. Sparks flew as the Relics met, each shining like twin suns. Byleth could barely hold the Sword of the Creator anymore. How were they supposed to do this? How were they supposed to cut him down?

They thought they knew what they were giving up, when they had raised their sword in the Holy Tomb, when they had stood at Edelgard's side and stared Rhea down. The fury in her eyes, the venom in the archbishop's voice was nothing when they had Edelgard with them. They would have gladly faced down all the armies in the world to protect her.

But they never saw this coming. The universe and the goddess were cruel, to test them like this. Was Sothis laughing, deep within their chest? Did she also realize the irony, sharp and piercing as the tang of blood in the air?

Their body moved on its' own, standing between axe and bow, partially out of a desire to protect Edelgard from Claude, and the other way around. They snapped their wrist and the sword responded, extending outward in a deadly whip-snare of sharp edges. The very tip caught the wyvern's horn, wrapping around the antler-like protrusion as they pulled with all their might. The wvyern responded in kind, desperately flapping its' great wings even harder, attempting to get away. They noticed the copper bands wrapped around each antler, studded with small gems. Claude told them that it was a tradition in Almyra to mark wyvern ownership by putting bands on their horns when they were young, that the gems were believed to grant protection to the beast.

They found themselves wincing when Edelgard pulled a hand axe from her belt and hurled it, when it struck the wyvern's sensitive underside. A gush of blood, not a fatal injury, but too close for comfort, and the wvyern roared in pain, landing with a thump on the hard flagstones. 

Claude leapt from the saddle and readied another bolt, the spectral arrow sparking power in his hands. Edelgard surged forward again, shield readied, and a wall of glowing sigils surrounded Hubert as he spoke in some ancient tongue, and they were frozen to the spot.

Then the ball of dark fire came screaming through the air, knocking Claude aside, and the bolt flew wide, tearing a hole in Edelgard's cape but otherwise harming nothing. Lysithea trembled with exhaustion as the glow in her hands faded and the tears trickled down her pale face. She was strong enough to do what they couldn't.

Claude was stumbling to his feet now, Failnaught out of reach, Edelgard's axe at his throat. They were speaking, to them, for them, and it was too much for them to bear. Every second they remembered more and more. They could see Raphael in the background, holding Ignatz back, they were always so close, weren't they. Leonie was screaming at Lysithea as the soldiers dragged her away, something about Jeralt's memory, and goddess, she had mourned even more when Jeralt died than Byleth themselves had. Marianne, so kind, so gentle, whispering a spell of healing to close Lorenz's wounds before slipping back into the maze of alleyways. 

Their students. Their Deer. They were breaking their heart, even as it lay still.

Byleth closed their eyes, and opened them again, trying to stave off the wave of tears, and saw nothing but the man they dragged before their feet. Edelgard's voice cut through the fog for a brief moment; "-should we keep him alive, or should we finish him off-".

It was their choice. Whatever they said, Edelgard would follow, because she knew they would never steer her wrong. Claude's life, so fragile and tiny now, was in her hands.

They knew what had to be done. If he was left alive, the Alliance would never stop fighting, never stop resisting them, and there would be so many lives lost. If they ended him now, that would be that, and the lords, left leaderless, would all surrender their arms, and they could go on to take the Kingdom, take on Rhea in all her fury without the fear of an Alliance rebellion.

It was their duty, as their teacher, to do what was best for their students. Even if it broke them in half. So they hefted the sword, and raised it high, and a single swing should do it, quickly and painlessly. The glowing blade, trailing light like a comet as it arcs down, down, down.

And hovers next to his throat before it slips from their grasp as the tears finally fall.

They remember it all now.

Claude, flashing them a crescent-moon grin as he attempted to recruit them for the Alliance. Claude, shaken but still standing after his first real battle. Claude, leading the charge at the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Claude, shouting for them as they fall into the canyon, chest burning with the force of the spell. Claude, embracing them amongst the ruins of the monastery after five years passed in the blink of an eye. Claude, determination in the set of his jaw as he lifted Failnaught to deal a killing blow. Claude, astride his white wyvern, rushing towards the ancient king, a glint in his eye that meant he knew something great was about to happen, another scheme sucessfully carried out.

They had flown the skies of Almyra, over the endless amber sea of grass, the stars glittering in the endless black, and talked of love and the future, split wide open before them. Their wedding had been a grand affair, and they'd laughed for days afterward, at the nobles of Fodlan and the khans of Almyra awkwardly trying to make small talk and acting like they didn't hate each others' guts. They'd had many children, chubby-cheeked and bright, with their father's wit evident in every bone of their tiny bodies. They had grown old and grey together, and there came a day when Claude, hair graying and face creased like paper, had placed Failnaught down and never picked it up again. They still went on adventures, their wyvern soaring across the sea, white wings skimming the water, as they watched the horizon together. 

The sun was setting, painting the sky with colors that put the greatest of artists to shame. Great bands of pinkish clouds sailed leisurely through the open air, backlit by the orange and red of the fading light. The grasses whispered, waving back and forth in the slight breeze, as a herd of wild horses grazed. They were sitting together on a blanket, admiring the view, when he turned to them.

"Byleth?" His voice was still strong and steady, despite his age, as he spoke. "Do you think...she's proud of us?"

"Who's proud of us?" They were confused.

"Edelgard. She told us, before she died...She told us to carry on her legacy. To help bring her dreams to life, even if she couldn't be there to see them come to fruition."

They had considered for a moment before responding. "I think so. Wherever she is now, I think she'd be pleased."

He smiled. "You know, she would have been a good ally. Perhaps even a friend, if she wasn't so...closed off. If she'd just told us what she was planning, we could have talked her down...But there's no use crying over spilled milk, right? We've made it. Relations between Fodlan and Almyra have never been better, the people are starting to accept each other, and there's even talk of a peace treaty. A permanent one, this time."

They'd smiled back, even as their heartstrings snapped in two, as they remembered her, and all her ambitions, left in the dust of history. Doomed to be remembered as a belligerent, power-hungry despot. The intelligence in her violet eyes, the silent tears she cried when no one was watching, would be forgotten. The winners wrote the history books, and it would never be her story.

He'd gripped their hand, then, as if he could read their mind, and said "You still have the ability, right?"

They'd nodded. He continued "When I pass on, you...why don't you try going back, to before all of this happened, and..." He trailed off, but they knew what he meant.

They could try again. They could stand with her this time. They could change the course of history.

And they had. After the ashes of his funeral pyre cooled, after the guests all cleared out and they were left alone with their grief, they had reached out to Sothis, one last time. 

They had turned back the hands of time to save one love, but at the cost of another.

But this wasn't how it ended. This wasn't how it was written, because it was never carved in stone to begin with. 

"Let him live."

Edelgard rushed to her side. "My teacher, are you alright? What's wrong?" 

"Let Claude live." They raised their head, tears streaking down their face. "I...I have seen enough death....Too many lives gone....Let him go." Edelgard nodded to the soldiers, and they gave the Alliance leader space, sheathing their weapons.

Their eyes met, for a brief seconds, before he nodded and spoke. "I, Claude von Riegan, surrender the city of Deirdru....and with it, the Leicester Alliance...to the Adrestian Empire. I renounce all claims to the Riegan Dukedom, and officially dissolve the Alliance, once and for all, leaving it in the hands of the Empire."

He left sometime after, amidst the confusion of the newly-captured city, after he'd tended to his wvyern's wounds and packed his things. There was a certain sadness in his eyes as their gazes met, before he turned and climbed into the saddle of his wyvern, lifting off and leaving as the tides came in. 

There was a time, after the war, after the dust had settled, when they sat on a blanket with Edelgard, on a field in the outskirts of Enbarr. They sat together, and watched the setting sun blaze bright before it sank beneath the horizon, and as it did Byleth resolved to try again. They knew they could be saved. They knew there was a way forward, now.

One day, they would wake again and remember.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fanfiction I've ever published.
> 
> (this is the part where you cheer, or at least clap politely.)
> 
> Anyway, please go easy on me.


End file.
